


subtle aches (the weather changes)

by Petr1chor



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Multi, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27594508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petr1chor/pseuds/Petr1chor
Summary: ZUKKA BLY MANOR AUAfter the death of his sister, Zuko must return to Ember Manor to look after her children. Monsters lurk in the darkness. So does love.The ghost story? A love story? A memory, either way.Xxx“So, Sifu, how is training the kids going?” Sokka asked, head still bent over the weeds.Zuko dragged his hand down his face. “It’s going really well, actually. They may be kids, but, well, they are Azula’s kids.”Zuko clenched his jaw. He loved the children, he did. But Izumi let out a puff of a flame making Iroh jump back. He could not watch them, in this house, and not think of Azula.“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” Sokka said, the edges of his voice soft and worn.“No, no, it’s alright. I don’t mind.”“You are allowed to, you know.”Zuko raised an eyebrow.“Mind,” Sokka continued, “I know I can be loud and pushy, but I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”“You haven’t,” Zuko exhaled and dug his fingers into the soil, “There isn’t really a 'comfortable' in a situation like this. I’m in the fire nation after 4 years of being away, to look after my sister’s children.”
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Azula/Ty Lee (Avatar), Mai/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey you guys  
> I crawled out of my two year hiatus to write this.
> 
> Title is from

The hall was lit in dim, hazy glow. The day before a wedding was a bittersweet thing. There was, of course love. But there was also remembrance. There was also longing. 

  
The high, arching ceiling called out, as though it was echoing memories. The gentleman looked across the room at the woman standing by the fireplace. Her long grey hair rested against her back in waves. It was dark brown once, he remembered. Dark brown and catching the light amongst a rose garden he held dear. 

  
The bride was lying across the chaise, her feet in the lap of her beloved, wearing a painfully fond look. 

  
“Won’t you tell us the story?” she said.

  
The gentleman smiled. It was an inevitable thing. He was a storyteller, and it was the sort of story that was meant to be told. 

  
“For you, my little flame? Always.”

* * *

Many great philosophers have said that man cannot be on their own. They crave company, affection, touch. No man is an island, they say. It is funny way to put it, as if the an island does not crave the mainland, as though the water lapping on its shore does not somehow drain it dry.

  
Ember Island stood starkly alone in the deep blue waters that cradled the west coast of Caldera city. While Caldera boasted high, rocky peaks, the small island still seemed formidable, even when cast in shadow.

  
Zuko had never liked Ember Island. The circumstances under which we he was returning hardly made the situation any more pleasant. The single, long stretch of road that connected the island to the mainland had seemed far too short. Now, looking at the cobblestone path that led to the manor, he floundered.

  
“Nervous, Sparky?”

  
When his uncle had suggested that he take his blind, teenage assistant as his escort through the earth kingdom, Zuko had been skeptical. Toph, however, was unflappable as ever. 

  
“You really didn’t have to come all this way,” he said.

  
Toph cackled, “Don’t be an idiot. I’m just trying to escape the endless ginseng tea your uncle gives me. ‘The tea will soothe your troubled soul, Toph’” 

  
Zuko tried to hide a smile and gave in when he realized she couldn’t see him anyway. He put one arm around her and pulled her in. 

  
“Thank you for coming with me,” he said. 

  
She punched his arm. “See ya around, Sparky.”

  
Zuko steeled himself for the short walk as he heard Toph’s footsteps fade behind him. The gate had a winding creeper growing on it. It was quite beautiful, Zuko thought absently as he made the trek through the garden.

  
That was, of course, until he was nearly knocked over.

  
“Uncle Zuko!” her voice trilled, piercing his ears, “You’re here!”

  
Zuko laughed and tousled her hair. She tightened the arms around his leg.

  
“Yeah I am,” he said, when she finally let go.

  
“Come on,” she took him by his hand, “Everyone will be simply thrilled to see you. Katara- Katara is the new cook!- is making special fire noodles for you. Iroh will pretend like he isn’t, but that’s just because he thinks being not nice makes him seem grown up.”

  
“Isn’t he grown up?” Zuko asked, with the inevitable grin on his face. It was impossible not to smile around Izumi.

  
“No, silly,” Izumi said, “He needs Aang to help him reach the top shelf in the library. Oh, and the other day, he fell from a tree, and he would have cried if Sokka hadn’t been there to hug him and check if he was hurt.”

  
“Sokka?” 

  
“Sokka’s the gardener. He’s lovely, he is. He gives me flowers to put in my hair.”

  
“He sounds amazing,” Zuko smiled.

  
Izumi had led them to the cliffside behind the house. In the rapidly shortening distance, he saw two familiar figures, both kneeling and looking over the cliff. 

  
“Iroh!” she yelled, “Look, Uncle Zuko’s here.”

  
Izumi was still hanging by his hand when the stilled, but went to tug at Iroh’s instead. 

  
“Uncle,” the boy said, and bowed.

  
“Iroh,” Zuko replied and did he same

  
He kneeled, “Have you been looking after your sister well?”

  
Iroh flung himself into his arms and held on tight.

  
“I missed you,” he whispered into the space where his face pressed into Zuko’s neck, “I missed you. It has been so long. Why did you go away?”

  
Zuko stilled before tightening his arms. There was a lead balloon in his gut.

  
“I know, I know I’ve been gone. I am so so sorry. I’m here now, and I am not going away.”

  
Iroh let go and shook himself. The smile he wore was awfully convincing, as though he did not nearly cry into Zuko’s shoulder. It made him uncomfortable.

  
Aang had a wide grin when he stood. He clasped one hand on his shoulder, “It is so good to see you again, Zuko.”

  
“The last time I was here you were shorter than me.”

  
“Clearly, you’ve been away too long,” he said, “Now, come along, Katara is an amazing cook.”

  
He let the children take both his hands and lead him to the manor. 

  
Ember Manor stood against the fading light of the day with the same amount of foreboding it always did. Zuko swallowed sharply. He was no longer a child. He knew now that monsters do not come in the form of ghosts and demons. They come in the form fading memories and too hot hands coming towards him. 

  
Besides, all the moving shadows when they were children were just the product of Azula playing games, and now, Azula…

  
Well, it wouldn’t be problem.

  
The hall at the entrance was smaller than he remembered, but his memories of the house always played with him. The chatter was new, though. He liked how it sounded, spreading across each dark, eerie crevice until that too was alight with the excitement that only children could muster. 

  
“The same room is alright with you, right?” Aang asked, “I didn’t think you would want the master wing all to yourself.”

  
Zuko shuddered and Aang forced a laugh.

  
“This way, you’ll only be a hallway away from the children.”

  
“That’s perfect, thanks, Aang,” Zuko said, already moving towards the room. 

  
Aang gripped his sleeve, “It’s really good to have you back, Zuko.”

  
He nodded and went upstairs.

* * *

The room was as he remembered it. The large window overlooked the garden. The bed was pristine, the dresser immaculate. The large mirror made him stare back at himself. Zuko let his gaze wander over his face. It wasn’t long before he pulled a spare sheet out of the dresser and covered it up.

  
He took a long, drawn breath. The kids needed him. He could pull his shit together for their sake. 

  
It took him barely half an hour before he was bathed and dressed, standing at the entryway to the kitchen, fiddling with his sleeves. There was a woman at the stove, humming to herself and tossing a wok. Her hair ran in a long, dark braid down her back. She seemed so enthralled by what she was doing that Zuko was unsure of how to alert her of his presence. 

  
That was until a warm hand landed on his shoulder.

  
“What’re you doing just standing here, Zuko? Aren’t you going to say hi to Katara?” 

  
At that Katara spun around. “Oh! You’re ready!” 

  
She puttered about until she placed a tray on the table. “How about you sit there and relax while Aang and I set the table. Get the salad out, please, Aang.”

  
Zuko nodded as they set to work.

  
He poured himself a cup and lightly blew on it. It was a familiar brew. Definitely from The Jasmine Dragon. The taste of it settled his nerves.

  
The children came bounding into kitchen just as Katara set the table. 

  
The sound of laughter was almost overwhelming. It permeated the air where Izumi asked Katara to stay the night. 

  
“Where would I sleep?” Katara asked.

  
“You can take my bed, “the reply was instant, “Iroh and I can share.”

  
Zuko felt like he should be saying something. They were his blood, his family, but he watched as Izumi tugged at Katara’s hair. As Iroh fell deep in conversation with Aang. He did not know how he fit in. 

  
He looked up abruptly when a man walked in. he sauntered over to the decanters and poured himself a glass of sake. He was looking right at him. He could see his eyes wander to the left side of his face. Zuko felt the heat rise up his neck as he looked down. 

  
“I’m going to head home, Gran-Gran isn’t doing so well.” Katara said.

  
The kids began a volley of words, and the man who entered made a wordless sound of assent. 

  
“I’ll walk you,” Aang said, pushing his seat back. 

  
The kids continued to call out to the two of them. The man met his eye, his mouth curving up on one side. He picked up another glass and poured the sake in. He slid it across the table to Zuko. Zuko accepted it gratefully, taking a long sip and letting it calm the panic growing in his chest.

  
He looked up at the man, he smiled back and then, without a word, he left. 


	2. Chapter 2

“You have to stay in bed till dawn,” Izumi insisted.

Zuko sighed. He was unused to children, much less to one with an imagination like hers. Iroh stood at the door that joined the two bedrooms, toying with the belt on his robe. Zuko tucked the blanket around her and brushed his hand through her hair.

“I will, sweetheart, but you need to go to sleep now, alright?” he said.

“No, you need to promise.”

“I promise, now eyes shut.”

She complied with a soft smile on her face.

Zuko clasped Iroh’s shoulder and walked him to bed.

“Any idea what that was about?” Zuko asked.

“She is,” Iroh stopped to think, “Young. Sometimes her fears get the best of her. Sometimes, even when it doesn’t make sense to you, you should listen to her. Maybe it will help, you now?”

Zuko looked at the furrow in his forehead, thoughtful.

“You are awfully wise for your age,” he laughed, “Aiming to become just like your namesake, are you?”

Iroh nodded.

“Sleep well, Iroh.”

Zuko headed back to his bedroom. The weight of the day was crashing in on him. When he finally lay in bed, it seemed to engulf him whole. He had left the window open, and it let it the autumn breeze. Winter was well on its way. Zuko closed his eyes. He remembered.

_“Azula slow down, you’re going to hurt yourself,” he yelled after her._

_She was running down the stairs to the front entryway._

_“You’re just saying that because you’re not fast enough to catch me, Zuko.”_

_“Don’t call me that!”_

_Azula cackled delightedly until she stopped abruptly. Zuko felt his spirits sink. He could not see Azula from this angle, but knew there was only one reason why she would have stopped. When Zuko forced himself to make his way down the stairs, he saw Azula, standing in front of their father, dipping her head, with her hands behind her back._

_“Is this how you have been taught to behave?” his voice was not loud, but she shrunk back anyway._

_Beside Father, Zuko watched as Uncle tried to crack a smile._

_“Come on, brother, she is just a child.”_

_“She is an heiress. She should not be flitting about like some common servant’s daughter.”_

_Zuko cleared his throat and gulped when his father shifted his gaze towards him._

_“It was my fault, sir,” he said, “I was chasing her.”_

Zuko shifted in bed. He closed his eyes and pressed his face in the pillow. He could almost imagine the almost, but not quite noiseless footsteps that would come into his bedroom. She always climb in bed before he said it was okay, or even moved aside, which inevitably became a tangle of blankets.

_“I didn’t mean to get you in trouble, Zuzu,”_

Zuko got up and grabbed a robe out of the bag he had not quite gotten to unpacking yet. Sleep was not going to grace him tonight, he decided.

The trek to the kitchen in the dark, Zuko realized, was not one that he had ever made before. The summers that they had spent at Ember Island were like a daze in his mind. He knew the rules. He recited them in his bed before he slept. The last thing he would always say was _No leaving the room after bedtime._

But he was here now, and Father’s shadow did not fall quite as long. He was a grown man, and he was free to get himself some tea in the middle of the night if he wanted to.

The vast kitchen was eerie in the moonlight, silver and blue and black. He set the kettle to boil before hunting for the tea. Zuko smiled when he realized that the shelf for tea had not changed in all the years he had been gone. He swept his fingers over the jars and settled on Valerian root. He did, after all, want to go to sleep.

The kettle gave a tinny whistle, he rushed to silence it before it woke anyone, managing to get it off the flame right before he stumbled and crashed to the ground. Zuko pressed his face to the floor and groaned.

 _Aang keeps the floors really clean_ he thought nonsensically as he stood and poured the water into the cup. The smell of it made his eyes half lidded, almost instinctively and he brought it to his lips.

He breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of it, calming the choppy beat in his chest. His leg hurt where he had banged it against the counter in his elegant little tumble. He ran his thumb over it in circles and stifled a yawn. Perhaps he could rest his head a little. Just for a few minutes.

The wood of the table was icy against his face as his eyes shut completely. The wind howled, the house creaked as if it was morning, and the hallways were full. _Old houses are noisy_ , he decided, and slipped into sleep.

* * *

Zuko ran the water for his bath as hot as he could. He wasn’t old, he told himself. Sleeping with your head on a table overnight after falling down is probably not comfortable for anyone. He slowly slipped into the bath, savoring in its searing heat and sighed. Washing up was a utilitarian thing for Zuko usually, as quick and easy as possible. But as the water engulfed him, he could almost hear his uncle.

_You must allow yourself comforts, nephew, it heals the soul._

He thought it was a little too late for healing his soul, but it might heal the soreness.

He dried himself off and inspected the bruises. Surely he had not fallen hard enough to warrant the purple blotch of his thigh, he thought. The mirror glinted mockingly and clenched his jaw.

_It was all too quick. The blades crossed over her face, poised to be thrown. The lightning flash. The reflection of the lightning on the knives. Spirits, he hated the color blue._

Zuko made a fist and steeled himself. A mirror is not a monster. He was not afraid of it. He looked right at it, and his gaze landed on his neck. He tilted his head, trying to get a better look.

How could he possibly have bruised his neck during the fall?

 _I’ll do you one better_ , his mind supplied, _what kind of adult can’t make tea without hurting themselves?_

His mind, he realized, sounded a lot like Azula.

* * *

Izumi and Iroh were already at the breakfast table when he arrived, looking rumpled and soft in their sleep clothes.

“Good morning, loves,” the smile that spread on his face took no effort.

“Good morning!” Iroh chirped, while Izumi just smiled widely around her mouthful of food.

Zuko eyed the dished on the table warily, it all seemed unfamiliar. Aang and Katara had their heads bent close together, chatting over a pot simmering on the stove, and Zuko was glad that they hadn’t noticed the look on his face. The man from last night, who Zuko assumed was the gardener was sitting on the counter and watching him with amusement.

“Katara.” he said, and Zuko startled.

He had a nice voice. Loud, like Toph, but soft with amusement. Zuko liked it.

Katara turned around, whipping Aang with her braid. “Zuko! Glad you could join us. This is traditional stew from the Southern Water Tribe,” she said.

She either had not noticed the hair whipping or it was commonplace enough that she paid tno mind. Aang, however, seemed like he was in a daze. Zuko absently wondered how much hair could hurt.

“Uh, sure,” he said, “Let me just make some tea, first.”

Katara nodded and turned to the man, “Take Aang with you, I don’t like the idea of you being near the cliffs by yourself, Sokka.” she said and Zuko quietly celebrated that he had gotten the gardener’s identity correct.

“Katara, I’m a grown man,” _Sokka_ replied, “I don’t need help with some weeding.”

Zuko couldn’t find the jar of jasmine tea. He remembered eyeing it yesterday, but Katara had already made Chamomile. He tried not to pout visibly.

“It isn’t about needing help. Feel free to dig around the dirt by yourself, but keep someone close,” Katara said, her voice had begun to take a tone he only ever remembered his mother taking, “If you fall no one would know where you were. You can’t hear anything from there.”

Zuko sighed and settled on Chamomile again. Maybe he could write to Uncle to send over some Jasmine. Zuko felt someone push a warm cup into his hands. He looked up to find Sokka smirking at him. He motioned for him to take the cup. Zuko brought it to his face and inhaled deeply. Jasmine. He furrowed his brow to ask for an explanation, but Sokka was facing Katara and looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“If you so desperately want me to take someone, maybe Zuko could come with me. Aang needs to clean the mud tracks that someone-“he looked pointedly at the children, “-dragged in.”

Zuko took a giant slurp of tea as Sokka threw him a wink and mouthed _payback._

He saw Katara’s shoulder that had risen enough to brush her ears deflate, “That actually makes sense.”

Zuko sat down at the table and let Katara pour him a bowl of stew. The kids were already leaving to get washed and dressed for the day. He hastily swallowed a mouthful, a little afraid that if his mouth was empty for too long he would end up speaking. The spice was softer, earthier than the fire nation food he had gotten accustomed to. It was a homely taste, like something you would share with family.

“This stew is amazing, Katara,” Zuko said.

She smirked and it almost seemed familiar, “See, that is how you appreciate good cooking, Sokka.”

Sokka sat down next to Zuko with a bowl of his own. He took a tentative sip. He hummed. “Not bad,” he said, “But not the best I’ve had.”

Katara threw a cloth at him, already walking away.

“You can do the clean-up then.”

Sokka chuckled and turned to him, “You don’t actually need to come with me.”

“Uh, no, it’s not a problem. I need somewhere open to run the kids through their katas anyway,” he said, “Preferably somewhere they can’t set anything on fire.”

Sokka laughed, “If they burn anything there it would be an improvement. I’ll see you in an hour, then, Zuko.”

Zuko hurriedly finished his bowl of stew and stood to leave, “Yeah, see you.”

* * *

The cliffside was more beautiful in the daylight than it had been at sunset. Granted, they were in a different part of the island, but how different could cliffs be, really.

Iroh and Izumi led him towards the place Sokka was weeding, and Zuko followed diligently. It had been many years since the last time he trained officially, and while firebending may be something that he uses nearly every day, training someone else was something else altogether.

Izumi slowed down until she was right by him. “I’m very angry with you,” she said.

Zuko tried not to smile, “Me? Why?”

“You broke your promise. You didn’t stay in bed last night.”

Zuko stilled and felt his neck grow hot. There was something deeply shameful in allowing himself to slack off until he was passing out in the open where anyone could see. He was meant to care for these children. How could he do that in such a state?

He felt a small hand slipping into his and squeezing. “It’s alright, I’ll forgive you as long as you keep all your promises from now on.”

Zuko looked down into her eyes. Beyond that softness, beyond the kindness that was holding his hand, there was a fire that burned hotter than any of them. Zuko swore he would keep that fire burning with his life.

“Oh look, it’s grandpa,” Sokka called out as they approached.

Zuko looked up, startled. Sokka reached out to ruffle Iroh’s hair.

“Got any wisdom for me, on this fine morning?”

Iroh just grunted and swatted him away, but his mouth was tugging upward anyway. Sokka looked at Zuko and smiled.

They ran through the basic katas, but it seemed Zuko had no reason to worry at all. They picked it up with the sort of ease that made Zuko suspect it was not the first time they had practiced them. While their previous caretaker was not a firebender, he had no doubts that Azula taught them a thing or two as soon as they could toddle out of their cradles.

Zuko sat back and watched. The stood far apart enough that injury was unlikely, but Zuko kept his gaze on them anyway.

“So, Sifu, how is training the kids going?” Sokka asked, head still bent over the weeds.

“Don’t call me that,” he replied.

“So prickly. Careful, or I’ll call you Spikey instead.”

Zuko dragged his hand down his face. “It’s going really well, actually. They may be kids, but, well, they are Azula’s kids.”

Zuko clenched his jaw. He loved the children, he did. But Izumi let out a puff of a flame making Iroh jump back. He could not watch them, in this house, and not think of Azula.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” Sokka said, the edges of his voice soft and worn.

“No, no, it’s alright. I don’t mind.”

“You are allowed to, you know.”

Zuko raised an eyebrow.

“Mind,” Sokka continued, “I know I can be loud and pushy, but I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You haven’t,” Zuko exhaled and dug his fingers into the soil, “There isn’t really a 'comfortable' in a situation like this. I’m in the fire nation after 4 years of being away, to look after my sister’s children.”

He stopped and shuddered.

“They couldn’t find where I was when it happened. I was travelling with a group of air nomads, and they had no idea where I was. They didn’t know how to send a message. I would have been here as soon as it happened if I knew.”

He hated how brittle his voice had gotten. When he turned around to look, Sokka had abandoned his weeding altogether and was gazing at him intently.

“What was she like, your sister?” he asked.

Zuko looked over at the kids. Iroh had perfect form, methodical and precise. Izumi was cackling away as she conjured little balls of fire.

“She was,” Zuko floundered, “Fierce. Fearless. She drove me up a wall.” He laughed.

“Siblings, right?” Sokka was smiling a gentle smile.

“You have siblings?” Zuko asked.

“You’re kidding,” Sokka was gaping, “You can’t possibly have not realized.”

“Uh…I have been called oblivious.”

“Why do you think Katara keeps mom-ing me?”

It made sense. The dark skin, the identical smirk. The way she tried to take care of him while yelling at him.

“Honestly, I thought that was just how she is.”

Sokka laughed, his eyes shining, “You’re not wrong.”

“Hey Sokka?”

Sokka hummed.

“How did you know? About the jasmine tea?”

Sokka had gone back to weeding diligently, his head bowed.

“You’re Iroh’s nephew. Of course you like jasmine tea.”

Zuko nodded, that made enough sense.

“And, uh,” Sokka added, “I saw you eyeing it last night. I did tell Katara to wait for to come and decide, but she thought chamomile would be good for you after such a long journey.”

Zuko felt something warm bloom in his chest and felt awfully glad that Sokka was not looking at him.

“That is a kind thought,” he muttered.

“Yeah well, she’s Katara.”

Zuko stood. “I better go stop Izumi from playing around.”

“You do that,” his smile was terribly soft, and Zuko hated the clenching in his chest.

The children needed his attention he decided, so that is where it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing these characters so muchhhh.
> 
> Zukka hurt/comfort coming up in the next chapters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check end notes for trigger warnings

Zuko scrubbed his hand down his face. It was late and he just wanted to curl up in bed. He had not had any good rest since arriving in Ember Island, and now the kids had decided to begin an unprompted game of hide and seek. 

‘Iroh,” he called out, “Izumi!”

He could hear Aang locking up the doors from where he was on the ground floor.

“Come on, kids, it’s way past your bedtime.”

Zuko knew his voice sounded weary and harsh and tried to soften it before calling out their names yet again. He sighed and rounded his way back to the wing with the kids’ bedrooms, hoping they tired themselves out and returned.

When he entered Izumi’s room, a little hand grasped at his wrist. His head spun around, only to see Izumi, finger pressed against her lips in a gesture of silence. She motioned for him to crouch down to her level, which he did.

“I think Iroh is hiding in the closet,” she whispered, “You should go and surprise him.”

Zuko, exhausted and willing to do whatever to put them to bed and then crawl into his own, did so without question.

The closet was not cramped, but not large enough for Iroh to hide in a way that he would be out of Zuko’s sight. But the closet was empty.

“I don’t think Iroh is-“ Zuko cut himself off as the door slammed shut behind him. He tried to open it, but the doorknob jangled uselessly.

“Izumi? Iroh?” his voice was small and unsure, “Kids?”

 _The kids would not lock me in here,_ he thought, and tried the door once more.

“Let me out! This isn’t funny!”

Zuko lit a flame in his hand and then spun around as he saw the reflection of the light from the corner of his eye. The mirror stood mockingly in from of him.

_The blades. The light._

_All blue, blue, blue._

_His own voice screaming “No!”_

_And then whispering “Mai, Mai, Mai.”_

_It sounded like dead, dead, dead._

Zuko scrambled back, pressing his back to the door and his hands to his eyes.

“Let me out! Iroh, Izumi, please.”

He banged his fists against the door, and screamed for help.

_Azula threw the door open. He heard her come in, but from where his head was buried in hands, he could not see her._

_“How could you let this happen?” her shrill voice bored through his skull._

_“Azula,” he heard uncle say but Azula cut him off._

_“No. My coward of a brother can speak for himself. Can’t you meet my gaze, Zuko?”_

He tugged at his hair. He was no longer using words, but simply screaming. He felt dizzy with exhaustion.

_Zuko looked up when Azula asked him to, and he knew he looked every bit of the mess he felt._

_“How did this happen?” her voice was cold. There was anger there, that much was obvious, but underneath that there was confusion and grief._

_“We- we were returning from the fountain. And suddenly father was there. It didn’t even take a minute. She was on the ground and there was yelling and I don’t know, Azula. I don’t know how it happened.”_

_“Father did this?” Azula had always been closer to their father than he was, “Where is he now?”_

_“Back in prison. Awaiting trial.” This time it was Uncle who answered._

_“And what were you doing, Zuko?” Azula’s face had shuttered off at the mention of their father but now the venom was back, “What were you doing when Father was shooting your fiancé with lightning? Did you stand and watch? Did you enjoy it?”_

_“Azula,” Zuko hated how his voice came out small and quiet. He did not know what he could say to her to make her believe that he would never willingly let her get hurt._

_“Azula,” he said, “I loved her.”_

_“How dare you?” she bellowed. She had a manic fire in her eyes and Zuko knew, he knew after all these years he should do something. He should fight, he should shrink back._

_But he did nothing. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ty Lee run in, eyes wide and wet._

_Azula reared up, her hand pointing right at his heart, the smell of ozone filling the air._

_I am going to die, Zuko remembered thinking. But he did not lift a finger._

_It was a blur, then was uncle redirected the lightning, and pushing Azula back. She reared up again, but Ty Lee caught her arm._

_“Azula, please, stop.”_

_Azula looked up, her jaw stiff and her eyes liquid fire. She met his eye._

_“I could not kill you today but you will spend the rest of your pathetic life knowing that it is your fault that she is dead.”_

He drew his knees up and pressed his forehead to them. His voice was too sore to scream any more. All he could do was quietly whimper. Zuko was not sure when he has begun crying but there was a steady stream of hot tears burning down his face. He felt pathetically glad that his voice had tapered off so he could not sob enough for someone on the other side of the door to hear. 

He was so tired. He wanted to be in bed. He wanted to be held.

He wrapped his arms around himself and lay one hand on his face. He cradled it, he stroked a thumb over his cheekbone. He let out a broken sob.

He never realized when he fell asleep.

* * *

_He was lying on his bed. He couldn’t breathe. The knives pressed to his neck pushed harder, earning a little trickle of blood._

_Mai was sitting on top on him, knees to both sides of his chest. She was smiling, grinning, ear to ear._

_That was wrong, he thought, Mai never smiled._

_“Zuko,” her voice sing songed, “You never told anyone what really happened did you? About what you said to me right before?”_

_He tried to speak but the knife was in his throat and all that escaped him were bloody gurgles._

_“Remember how he aimed for you and I pushed you away? Remember how I died because of you?”_

_Zuko make a pathetic, croaking noise._

_“You don’t even have the honor to tell them the truth.”_

_She twisted the blade and Zuko arched off the bed._

_“Scream, Zuko,” she ran a bloody finger on his cheekbone, “Scream.”_

Zuko woke up making a hoarse, wailing noise. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to bang the door again but the sound of it made his head throb and-

He couldn’t breathe. A sob wracked its way out of his chest and he was heaving. He could hear it.

The sound of air rushing in and out of his nose, he could hear it.

But he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t-

The door opened and the closet was flooded with light. He struggled to his knees and someone was here, in front of him. He could not focus his eyes to see who it was, but someone was here and he blindly reached his hand out until it touched something.

He gripped it with all his might.

* * *

“Shut it, Katara. I just want to invite him because he’s new here and I want him to feel welcome,” Sokka snapped at his sister’s teasing.

“Aw, I’m sure. It doesn’t have anything to do with his pretty eyes. Also, it’s his home, he isn’t new here, he’s known this place much longer than we have.”

“That was an _observation._ And he hasn’t seen the garden I’ve grown, has he. _”_

“Fine, fine, we’re here, now. Go get your boy.”

“He’s not my-“ Sokka huffed, “ You know what? I’m just going to go find him.”

When Sokka greeted Aang and made his way to the occupied wing of the house, he felt an unreasonable dread set inside him. Zuko’s door was open, but he was not inside. The bad sat, perfectly made.

He stood beside the door, idly wondering where Zuko could have gone this early in the morning. Sokka startled when he noticed a sound in the background. It was a faint thumping noise. He strained his ear to follow it, realizing with mounting alarm that it was coming from Izumi’s room.

When he got there, he realized Izumi’s bed didn’t look slept it, and the thumping noise had stopped. Sokka hated the odd feeling in his gut, but he chalked it up to his nerves about inviting Zuko to a walk.

They had all probably had a sleepover in Iroh’s room, he decided. Nothing sinister at all.

His thought was cut off by the sound of a ragged sob. Sokka looked around the room until his eyes fell on the closet door. He rushed to it and said a little prayer of gratitude when he found the key on the door and turned it.

From this close, he could hear the sounds of choking and harsh breathing. He pulled the door open, letting the light flood in, and stared.

Zuko had his head in his knees when the door opened, but he looked up. Sokka almost wished he hadn’t. His face was red and splotchy. His eyes were unfocused, but at the sight of him he scrambled forward on his knees.

Sokka fell to knees too.

“Zuko?”

He did not acknowledge it at all. Sokka did not think he knew what was happening. Zuko lifted a shaking hand and stretched it out, stilling when it came in contact with his arm. He wound his fingers around his sleeves and gripped tight.

Sokka matched to grip, holding Zuko’s forearm in return. He heard a door open, and saw the kids come in through the door that joined their rooms. The look of guilt on their face made him suspicious.

“Zuko, hey, you need to breathe,” he said.

He took a depp breath, squeezing Zuko’s hand for as long as he held it and eleasing when he exhaled.

“Come on, with me,” he said and watched as Zuko breathed out shakily.

Sokka kept it up, trying not to make eye contact with Zuko because it seemed like it was distressing him. He squeezed his arm. He looked at the way his hair stuck to his slick neck. There seemed to be a fresh cut on top of his scar and Sokka resisted the urge to reach out and touch it. He released his grip. He did it again and again. He kept at it and tried to keep his eyes of Zuko’s bloodshot but dry eyes.

“Zuko,” he said, softly, trying to keep his anxiety out of his voice, “Hey, hey, can you hear me?”

“Sokka?” his voice was weak, but it made Sokka sigh in relief.

“Get some water,” he called to the kids and Iroh instantly ran off.

“Hey, Zuko,” Sokka smiled as Zuko’s breathing settled into a more sedate pace, “You’re safe, okay?”

He nodded, and then let out a hysterical laugh, and Sokka was very grateful that Iroh chose this moment to rush back in. He handed the glass to Sokka, unable to look at Zuko at all.

Sokka squeezed Zuko’s arm once more before letting go. He pushed the glass into his hand gently.

“Here, drink some water.”

Zuko, to his credit gulped down the glass readily.

“Come,” Sokka said, “Let’s get you some more water and maybe some tea.”

He stood, stretching a hand for Zuko to take, but Zuko simply pressed his palms against the floor and raised to his feet. He had not looked at the children once, even though they lingered, mouths drawn unhappily upon their faces.

Zuko walked into the bathroom attached and Sokka remained. He watched the kids with a calculating gaze. He knew they were good kids, somewhere inside him he knew that, but the haunted look on Zuko’s face when he opened the door was still on his eyelids.

“You turds are in big trouble,” Sokka said.

Zuko came out of the bathroom looking perfectly composed except for the redness in his eyes and the cut under it. He walked to the bedroom door without a word and Sokka led him to the kitchen, careful to keep his hands to himself.

In the kitchen, Aang was sitting on the counter while Katara offered him a spoonful of something from the stove, but the stilled when the duo entered. They did not say anything as Sokka poured out a glass of water and set it in front of him along with the pitcher. They were quiet as he started to prepare jasmine tea, all the way until he poured out four cups of tea.

Aang sat beside Zuko, Sokka sat in front of him, with Katara to his side.

They drank their tea in silence.

* * *

They had decided to have a picnic for lunch in his honor today. Zuko had no doubt the idea was Aang’s even though it was Katara who came to his room to check on him and tell him about it. He knew he had upset them with how he was in the morning and as Zuko scrubbed himself clean for the second time since what happened he felt a heavy shame settle in his gut.

He did not know how he would face everyone. How he would face the kids, or Sokka. _Spirits, Sokka,_ he thought. While it was not the worst what happened during the night, it was the worst that someone had witnessed in quite some time.

He dressed himself in silence. He had the wisdom to keep both mirrors covered up. There was no point in trying to be brave if he was going to be a mess when he arrived. He slipped on a jacket, winter was fast approaching, and started the short walk to where Katara had told him to come.

The garden, Zuko realized, was more lush than he remembered it being. In the middle of it rose a statue, at the base of which Katara had chosen to set up. The kids were not running about, which came as a surprise, but when they caught sight of him they jumped up and ran to him.

Zuko tried not to flinch. They were children. They were his family.

Izumi looked chagrined, but it was Iroh who spoke.

“The door got jammed, We’re really sorry, we didn’t mean to get you trapped in there.”

“We didn’t,” Izumi insisted and tugged at her hair.

The gesture sent him reeling.

_“Mom said you should train with me, Zuko,” she tugged at her hair, smiling._

They did look apologetic, though, and his silence had sent Izumi into a flurry of explanations. Zuko took a deep breath. They were children. Children who did not know what happened that night, or in the day that followed. Whatever it is they were doing, they obviously intended no harm

The cut below his eye throbbed.

“I don’t believe you,” he said, finally and Iroh’s face fell, Izumi looked like she was going to cry.

“I don’t believe you,” he repeated, “But I do forgive you. You will never do that again.”

“Never,” Iroh said, solemn.

Zuko inhaled.

“Looks like Katara is still setting up, how about we play a game?”

Izumi looked tentatively curious. Zuko conjured up a flame.

“Try to steal some of this fire from me.”

The kids rushed at him despite the lack of space between them and Zuko yelped and jumped back. He held the flame up high and laughed as they jumped to try and catch it.

Zuko spun around and ran, with both of them following him, yelling delightedly.

* * *

“So,” Katara said, pouring them each a glass of wine, “What’s the verdict on the new guy?”

Sokka watched as the kids chased Zuko around, as he made the fire dance on his fingers. He knew, he was certain that one of the kids had locked him in there. But there he was, scooping Izumi up as she shrieked.

“I think Zuko’s pretty amazing,” Aang said.

Sokka sighed. Zuko had one kid in each arm now. He was speaking before he knew it.

“He is, isn’t he?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence, panic attacks  
> .......
> 
> I love me some good whump. More hurt/comfort is coming because I love itttt
> 
> Tell me what you think :) 
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked this!!!!  
> Let me know through kudos and comments.


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